


2007

by Stump_society



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, Pete Wentz - Fandom, Peterick - Fandom, fob - Fandom, overcast kids, patrick stump - Fandom, young bloods - Fandom
Genre: 2007 Fall Out Boy, Bandom - Freeform, M/M, Peterick, Peterick Smut, fall out boy - Freeform, relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-11 10:34:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5623996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stump_society/pseuds/Stump_society
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story of Peterick and how they came to be, starting from the year 2007.</p><p>Patrick is conflicted. He's always loved Pete and it's always been platonic. That's how it was supposed to be, wasn't it? Things begin to change between the two as Fall Out Boy prepares to release their third studio album "Infinity On High." Touring, traveling, and hotel nights bring them closer than ever before, but will they be willing to risk their friendship and the band for the sake of love?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. January- Band Practice

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying to make this story so that its able to sync up with fall out boy's time line in 2007. Not everything will be accurate and I'm sure I'll change a few things to fit the story line.
> 
> Goal: If this does well, there will be a sequel, though I expect that this fanfic may take a while to be completed. I'm about to start the second semester of my junior year and it can get pretty busy, so bear with me.

January 2nd, 2007

I step out of my apartment and onto the LA sidewalk. I'm wearing a cashmere sweater and jeans. It's too hot, much too hot. 85 degrees in January? How absurd. I long for my Chicago.  
This time last year I was shoveling snow off my mother's driveway, preparing for tour. Boy how things have changed. I walk down the street, discontent by the heat, making my way to my bands new practice space. We're playing the Friends or Enemies tour that kicks off in a couple days before the new album gets released in February. We've got a couple new songs on the set list that we hope will peak everyone's interest in wanting to give the record a listen. I'm confident in the record and I know the guys are too.

I neared closer to the practice space. It's a decently sized place that Pete found for us, about two blocks from my house. Pete said he got it partially because of its convenience in location, which makes no sense because everyone else lives about  20 minutes from it without traffic. I don't question his logic (or I try not to.)

I was sure that I was the first one there, like I always am. I dig in my pocket for the keys and pull them out, shoving the blue key one into the door. It unlocks and I walk inside only to find Pete on the couch scowling at his Sidekick. He looks up at me and his expression immediately softens.  
"'Trick!" He says, jumping off the couch to greet me.  
"Hey Pete." I say casually as I'm engulfed in on of his signature "Lunchbox Hugs."  
"You're Late." He says pulling away from the embrace, looking at my face as if he's trying to read me.  
"It's 1:50 or so. Practice starts at 2... What are you doing here so early? You and Joe usually get here last..?"  
"Oh. Y'know... Shit was happening at my place... I thought I may as well just come here instead. Give myself a break." By shit I wondered if he meant shit with Ashlee, his girlfriend. She moved in about a month ago and he's been on edge since. Something told me that maybe it wasn't working out, but what did I know.  
"Oh, yeah man I understand. Hey you know that if you ever need anything... Or like you need a place to go.. My doors are always open."  
"Oh, I know." He says with a cocky grin. He turns on his heel to uncase his bass. I follow him to do the same with my guitar. In the next few minutes Joe and Andy arrive and we get to our practice. Pete's got this habit of not taking his eyes off me while we play. It's a bit unnerving. I'll give him sideways glances and he'll just smile at me. I'm not sure what his grin is saying. "Hello," "You're doing great," "I liked that note you just hit." I've never been able to read Pete as well as he reads me.  
We sing Saturday, a song that my band should have down after playing it for so long. (About 4 years to be exact.) I stop through the first chorus. "Stop, stop, stop, that's NOT how it's supposed to be played." Andy quiets his drums as Joe looks at me with confusion, his B chord still ringing through the room. Pete is at my side in an instant, sensing my frustration. "What's wrong, what's the matter, did we mess up?" He says in this "who do I need to yell at" voice.  
"I'm just... I'm not feeling the vibe.."  
"The vibe?" Joe asks, clearly not getting it.  
"The vibe.. Like... The song feels old and washed up. At least it did while we were playing it just now.... It didn't feel like it did when we were first starting out. I want THAT vibe."  
Pete, seeming to be the only one who understands says "Yeah 'Trick I totally agree. Andy, you can admit you were playing half assed man. I know this is rehearsal but that's not like you, you're normally someone who gives 100% all the time. Where's the passion dude?" Andy nods in agreement like he knew he wasn't playing to his full potential. He's keeping his cool yet somehow still manages to look like a scolded vegan Cross-fit child.  
"And Joe, what were you doing man? Your riffs were weak. I wasn't feeling it either." Joe manages to look genuinely put off.  
"I thought we sounded great honestly" he says in a defiant tone.  
"Yeah, well I didn't. And neither did Patrick. Or Andy. Sorry bro."  
"I honestly think it was the whole band, myself included... We've played it so many times I think we were getting lazy that's all... Let's just take it from the top."  
"I agree 99.45%. You sounded great as always, Patrick. Don't put yourself down."  
I shook my head and shrugged, turning down the compliment. I can give myself criticism. It's one of the few things I'm actually good at.  
I start the song and we play it to its full potential, like it's supposed to sound. I've always enjoyed playing this song live and I wanted it to sound just as new and fresh as the rest of our music. (Was fresh a good word to use here, I'm not trying to sound like a gangster I swear. I'm too pale.) The rest of the practice runs smoothly despite my Saturday outburst and we pack up and leave. Pete is right on my tail when I walk out the door.  
"Remember when you said your doors were always open?" He asks as I lock the door.  
"Yeah," I say, putting my keys back in my pocket. "Come on over, I was just going maybe pop some corn and watch a movie. You can join."  
"Pop some corn?" He says with an amused chuckle. "Oh 'Trick, only you can manage to say that and make it cute." I could feel my cheeks starting to pink. I'm not sure how many times Pete has managed to put that color on my face, but it's an ongoing game with him that he likes to call, "Make Patrick Blush." Creative name, I know. Neither of us keep tabs on how many times he's done it, but it's probably a number I've never had the patience to count to. He grins cockily when he realizes that he's yet again been able to make that pink color rise on my cheeks. I try to ignore it.

"So how does Star Wars sound?" I ask, quickly trying to change the subject.  
He shrugs, "Whatever you want, princess. I don't care." He smirks. Just when I thought my blush was dying down. I semi-gently shove him and he pushes me back. We do this for another few yards until he pushes me harder than he intended and I go falling sideways into the concrete like the klutz I am. "Patrick!!" He exclaims, eyes wide. "Patrick oh my god I'm sorry I'm so sorry I didn't mean for you to fall seriously are you okay?? Oh my god you're bleeding your arm, shit oh my god." He rambles as he helps me up.  
"Dude it's fine, really!" I laugh as I brush my elbow off. I look at the small amount of blood on my right hand and wipe it off on my jeans.  They can be washed. It stings, my elbow I mean, but I didn't want to guilt make him feel guilty. I could see that he felt bad enough. Also, my ankle is throbbing and I'm sure that I've twisted it some how. Good going Patrick. "It's just a scrape don't worry, I'm not upset at all!" He doesn't look convinced.  
"Shit.. Oh Patrick I'm seriously so sorry I didn't think that you'd fall I should have been more careful. Your elbow looks bad, fuck. Let's get you home I'll help you clean it.. Can you walk?"  
"Pete I said that I'm fine." I say as I continue walking. It's really not that bad though but I'm trying NOT to limp; it would only worry him further. "I mean it, see? I'm just fine you don't need to worry anymore. And besides, I deserved it didn't I? I shoved you first."  
"You never deserve to be hurt, Patrick..." He mumbles. He follows a few steps behind me and I try to think of a way to lighten the situation. I ignore the blood that continues to trickle down my left arm. It's not that bad. I can feel Petes glare on it. I knew he was mentally beating himself up over the situation. I sigh as I  finally make my way up a few of the stairs to get to apartment. Ow okay, there's definitely something wrong with my ankle and it hurts. I cringe subconsciously. My cover is blown. In the next instant I feel my feet being lifted off the ground. "Pete?? What the fuck are you doing?"  
"I saw you limping the whole way here.. You can't fool me 'trick. I'm carrying you. So you done hurt yourself more. I try to protest but he silences me with a hush. It's awkward. Pete's not that much taller than I am and I'm definitely broader than he is, but he's surprisingly strong and he makes it work, carrying me bridal style. We get to the top and he's out of breath when he sets me down in front of the door of my apartment.  
"Thank you.." I mumble, quickly unlocking my door and stepping inside.  
"No problem I was happy to.. Hey do you have any water?"  
"No sorry, I ran out." I say rolling my eyes. "Of course I have water, follow me."  
"No. No no I can get it.. You go get some bandaids and Neosporin. Get some Ace bandages to. Bring them into the kitchen and I'll help you get that arm of yours cleaned up along with your ankle.  
"But I don't need any hel-"  
"Too bad." I see a smile hinting on his lips and I don't argue any further.  
"Be right back..." I say making my way across my apartment to my bathroom.

It's a modest apartment, really. It's actually pretty nice if I'm being honest, but I'm not really one for cleaning, so yeah, it's a bit messy. Pete offered to hook me up with something even better, a house even. But it's just me who's living here. This is all I need.

I walk into my bedroom to the bathroom and open my medicine cabinet. I ran out of big bandaids so I grab a few of the smaller ones.  I rummage through the cabinet looking for the Neosporin. I don't remember the last time I used it. I stand on my tiptoes on my good foot, balancing myself by holding onto the middle shelf and what do you know, it's on the top shelf. Damn my vertically challenged self. Damn it. I then grab the Ace bandage from my dresser drawer and walk back into the kitchen. Pete is helping himself to a glass of water and the left over burrito I had in my fridge from Taco Bell. I always get more food than I can eat when I go there.  
"Sit on the counter," he commanded. I climbed on wincing at the slight pain in my ankle. Taking the bandages and Neosporin from me, he begins to examine my arm.  
"How bad is it, Doc?" I'm trying to lighten the situation here. He shook his head. I really wish he wouldn't take this so seriously. He went over to the sink to wet a paper towel and came back, standing in front of me again. I watched him as he dabbed at my arm, washing the dirt and blood off of it. He was being so gentle, as if one false move would make the scrape bleed more. He then blotted my elbow dry and unwrapped a bandage.  
"You didn't have anything bigger?"  
"I'm all out.. Just use a couple it should be fine.." 3 bandages and a dab of Neosporin later, my arm was fixed up.  
"Thanks..." I said, about to slide off the counter to the floor.  
"Wait." He said kneeling down. "Which foot was hurt?"  
"Neither of them are-"  
"Patrick, please." He pleaded.  
"Left..." He took my shoe off along with my sock and felt around my ankle. I winced for the 200th time.  
"Sorry, sorry.. Shit.. It's a bit swollen 'Trick but I think it may just be sprained... I'll wrap it with the bandage to stabilize it.. Hopefully it'll be better by tomorrow.." I only nodded. I could sense the regret in his voice. He carefully wrapped my foot and ankle in the bandage expertly. "I used to have to do this all the time to my own foot when I played soccer.. I was always spraining my ankle.."  
"That's why I never played sports.. Or well one of the reasons.. I would have sucked anyway."  
"Patrick, you could do whatever you wanted and be great at it. I know you could.. Don't say that about yourself." I wouldn't say it if it wasn't true. I know my potential. It was at least nice to know that someone had faith in my athletic capabilities. He finished wrapping my foot and I thanked him again.  
"Don't thank me.. You shouldn't have been hurt in the first place." He sighed, not making eye contact. "I don't think your arm will scar.."  
"Hey.." I said, putting my hand on his shoulder. "Accidents happen. Don't worry about it anymore, it's not all your fault... I forgive you.. If that makes you feel better"  
He looked up at me through his jet black bangs with his big brown eyes. I smiled reassuringly. "Let's go watch Star Wars now hmm?"  
"Alright," he said, finally smiling back."Shall I pop some corn?" I laughed.  
"Go for it. I'll go out the movie in."

And so we watched Star Wars. One movie lead to another, and by 2am, we had watched all the way up to Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith. Almost. Our Star Wars marathon had been going since 4pm, and I was getting tired. I kept dozing off as Pete continued to watch the movie from the other side of the couch, wrapped up in my grandmothers quilt. I didn't notice the glances he kept stealing at me.

At the time, I was oblivious to what all of it meant. The way he treated me as if I were a king, or his protectiveness, his teasing (flirting.) I didn't know. And hell, it's not like I had much experience in the relationship field, I'd only ever focused on girls because that was the norm.

Pete was different though. Much different.  
I had no clue that soon after that night, Pete Wentz was going to turn my world upside down. The stars would align and everything would soon fall into place. I just needed to open my eyes and see what was in front of me.

It was late, and I was far too tired. Opening my eyes was the last thing I wanted to do. So I kept them closed and started to drift to sleep. At some point a protective arm wrapped around my shoulders. I couldn't tell who's it was, but I swore I heard the hushed words,  
"Sleep, love.. Tomorrow is a new day."  Before I gave in to my dreams.


	2. January- Under the Stars

January 3rd, 2007

 

I'm woken by the loud crash of pans against the linoleum floor in my kitchen. What the hell? I sat up and noticed that a blanket's been wrapped snugly around my body. Who could have... I stare at the wall blankly as I come to my senses for the morning. Pete. Of course. I get up quickly feeling the slight pain in my ankle as I stumble into the kitchen.  
"Pete?" I say as I see him bent down on the floor with paper towels. It looks like he's spilled milk and some other grainy-ish substance. He looks over his shoulder at me and stands up.

  
"Oh 'Trick! I'm sorry I didn't mean to wake you.. I'll get it all cleaned up I promise.."

"What is all of this..?" I ask.

"Oh.." He smiles sheepishly. "I was trying to make you... Us breakfast. Oatmeal... I was making it on the skillet like my mom used to and I accidentally left the handle so it was sticking out over the stove and I some how I managed to knock it off the counter and spill it everywhere.. Sorry... But good morning by the way!" He comes over and gives me a quick hug before cleaning up his mess.

"Morning.." I mumble, still groggy from my sleep. He was making me breakfast? That was... Nice. Even if it was all over my floor and cabinets now. That was a thoughtful gesture anyway... "Can I help you clean..?"

He shook his head. "You need to stay off that foot of yours. I've almost got it cleaned up anyway.. Can I make you something else?" He stood up and turned the stove off, putting the pan in the sink to be washed.

"Uhm... I mean if you REALLY want too... I've got some Frosted Flakes in my pantry..."

"I'm on it!!" He got a bowl from my cupboards and prepared my cereal, setting it in front of me with a spoon. "Bonne Appetite.." He said, cheesily.

"Merci! You don't speak French.."

"Yes, but you do.."

"Je parle un peu." (I speak a little bit)

"I don't know what you just said, but it was cute." Don't blush. Don't blush. He walked back to the counter to make his own bowl of cereal as I munched on mine. When he came back I was already half way finished. I love cereal. He took a bite of his Frosted Flakes and looked at me. "Oh." He said. He then grabbed a napkin and leaned over the table.

"What are you-" He swiped the napkin just above my upper lip as I stared at him.

"You just had a little..." He sat back down normally and continued eating his cereal as if that didn't just happen. I wasn't used to someone taking care of me like this. Sure, Pete had always looked after me since the day we met. It was instinct for him. But this was getting different. More intimate.

I'm over analyzing this aren't I.

"Thanks.." If only my damn cheeks weren't so pale, then maybe my blushing wouldn't be so noticeable. He shrugged and we finished the rest of our breakfast in silence.

"I should be getting home soon... Ash is probably wondering where I am by now..."

"You didn't tell her you were here?"

"No. I didn't feel like it was necessary." His tone was blunt. What was going on between those two?

"Oh.. I understand.. You know Pete... I think we're close enough by now that you can talk to me about whatever's going on with-"

"I don't want to talk about her with you." He said harshly. I was taken by surprise. He didn't normally speak like that to me.

"I'm sorry?"

"I said I.. I just don't want to talk about it alright?" He laced up his boots and put on his hoodie that was draped across the arm of my couch. I stood their watching him. Had I done something wrong? He walked to the door. What could possibly be going through his head right now.

"Oh... Alright. Well.. I guess I'll.."

"Good bye, Patrick." And then he was gone. The door clicked closed behind him.

What the hell?

His words continued to ring through my head.

I don't want to talk about her with you.

"With you?" What was he implying? That I wasn't trustworthy? That we weren't on the level of friendship that I thought we were on, where we could be totally open with each other? I was extremely confused.  
I knew Pete could be moody. It's wasn't like he'd never snapped at me before, but normally it wasn't personal. It was music related most of the time. Band stuff. I couldn't help but feel slightly offended.

Fine. Be that way.

With a sigh, I walked back into the kitchen and put the bowls in the sink to be washed later. I'd get to them eventually. I then went into my living room and sat on the couch in the space Pete had occupied just hours before. It smelled like his cologne. I couldn't say that I minded. It's a good smelling cologne.

I was going to call this a lazy day. I had no obligations- nothing that needed to be done (except maybe packing my bags for tour but I'd probably just do that tomorrow morning). Curling my feet up underneath me, I turned on my tv and rewinded the Star Wars movie around to the part where I fell asleep, trying to forget the dull pain I felt in my chest from Pete's harsh words.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I woke up on my couch around 5:30 pm to my phone ringing. Who the hell was disturbing my sleep this time. I answered, my voice sounding groggy. "Hello?"

"'Trick, hey. It's me."

"Pete?" I said, sitting up to stretch my legs in front of me. "Hi. What is it." I thought the guy was mad at me.

"I wanted to apologize for being a douche earlier. You didn't deserve that. I've got a lot of shit I'm trying to figure out right now but I'd prefer not to discuss it. Wanna go get some barbecue?" Oh so he wasn't mad at me. I could feel the pain in my chest start to vanish.

"It's cool, but I hate barbecue, dude.."

"I know." I could hear his smile through the phone. "So pizza?"

"Yeah that's fine I guess.. I didn't have any dinner plans anyway."

"Cool. It's a date. I'll pick you up at 6! Bye Lunchbox." The line went dead. His use of the old nickname triggered a tingling feeling inside of me that I didn't recognize. Right in the pit of my stomach. What the hell? I got up to go make myself look presentable for my so called "date" with Pete Wentz.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••  
Pete picked me up at 6pm sharp, just like he said. I got into his car, adjusting my Clandestine cap on my head before putting on my seat belt.

"Hey 'Trick! Nice hat by the way." He said putting the car in drive.

"Thanks, I got it from this guy called Pete Wentz. I'm not sure if you know him." He laughed. I try to be funny.

I decided that I was going to avoid the Ashlee topic at all costs. Something was really bothering Pete, but if he didn't want to talk about it, then I wasn't going to push it.

"Does Crispy Crust sound alright to you?"

Pete and I had been going there since we  
moved to LA last year. We agreed that out of all the pizza places we had tried in the area, it was the best.

"Yeah totally.. I figured we'd go there anyway."

I propped my elbow on the door handle and looked out the window. LA winter weather came as a shock to me. I hadn't lived here that long really. I made the move around the middle of last year, along with the guys while we were recording our album. Don't get me wrong. LA is an amazing city. It's got a great vibe to it and I know that there's thousands, even millions of people who wish they could be as fortunate to live here,  
but it's not Chicago.  
It's not home. Maybe some day it will be, but right now I'm missing the Chicago frost that covered my front porch, and the icicles that hung from my roof. I missed my white Christmas and the desperate need for a cup of hot cocoa after shoveling the snow off my driveway. I missed taking strolls through the city with my hands in my coat pockets and a scarf wrapped snuggly around my neck, and the chilled air biting at my nose. My city was beautiful. It still is.

"Patrick. Patrick. 'Trick. Lunchbox. Rickster. Tricky. 'Trick. Hey. Hellooooo earth to Patrick?"

I snapped out of my day dream. How long had Pete been trying to get my attention?  
"Hmm?" I diverted my attention from the window to Pete.  
"What were you thinking about?" His voice was laced with curiosity.  
"Oh. Yanno... Chicago."

"Of course." He chuckled. "You'd fuck Chicago if it were a person. Marry it even." I couldn't disagree with him on that.

"I just miss it."

"I do too 'Trick, but you have to live in the moment! We're ROCKSTARS now. Living in Los fucking Angeles. One of the greatest cities in the whole U.S. of A. Enjoy it while it lasts. No one is saying that it'll be like this forever..." He had a point. We were pretty lucky I guess.

He pulled into the Crispy Crust parking lot and parked the car. "And we have arrived at our destination." He sounded like one of those electronic gps devices.  We got out of the car and went inside. "You grab us a table while I order the pizza." I obliged and found us a table in the corner, where we wouldn't be noticed. Or well, Pete wouldn't be noticed. Pete got recognized out in public a lot more than I did. He's a pretty high profile celebrity these days. He came back with drinks and a number card for when they brought out our pizza.

"I got you Dr. Pepper is that alright?"

"Oh yeah that's perfect, thank you. What kind of pizza did you get?"

"Pepperoni," he shrugged. "I didn't feel like being experimental today with my pizza toppings."

A silence fell upon us. It wasn't necessarily uncomfortable, but Pete would usually talk his mouth off when he was with me. Teasing, telling me crazy shit he did with Hurley and his more outgoing friends (I don't normally take part in his antics. They're too extreme for someone of my nature). Or he would just talk to me about life in general and start getting philosophical with that complex little mind of his. It didn't take much for Pete Wentz to entertain me.

The only things I could come up to ask him were A. "What did Ashlee say when you got home?" Or B. "What are you thinking about?" A. was probably the worst thing I could ask him right now, yet my curiosity was getting the best of me, making up scenarios in my head. I couldn't ask B. because obviously whatever he was thinking about had to do with whatever was going on back at his house. I would let Pete start a conversation when he was ready. I watched as he tore the paper napkin into little bits and shreds, creasing his eyebrows together in concentration.

  
"How are paper napkins made?"  
"Uhm," how random. "I don't quite know for sure.. By trees I would imagine."

"Duh. I know that. But I wonder if it's a specific kind of tree. Or like, what kind of person grows up and says they want to make paper napkins for a living. Why would you subject yourself to that sort of labor?"

"Maybe it's easy labor?"

"I'm sure it is. They probably come from a factory. The paper I mean, not the people. Machines do all the work and produce thousands of little paper napkins a day. What's the point of having people work in that factory?"

"I would assume so they can work the machines and make sure nothing catches on fire.."

"Probably. What I'm saying is why would anyone want to work in a factory the produces such a mundane thing. Surely they're bored out of their minds."

"Pete, not everyone can be as fortunate as us to have such an... Exciting job you know? Most people have to focus on making money... And they'll do whatever helps puts a roof over their head and food on their tables every night... I'm sure the people making paper napkins are just trying to survive."

"I guess you're right..." He went quiet again.

That was odd. But then again, it wasn't uncommon for Pete to go into random rambles. I was just taken by surprise at the subject he chose and the complex conversation he managed to turn it into.  
But that's Pete for you.

Our pizza came out shortly after that, just as we started to debate on weather thick or thin crust was better. I've caught on that Pete's trying to direct my attention to anything but his own personal issues. We grabbed our giant pieces of pizza off the pan and set them on our plates to cool. Pete noticed that my cup was almost empty.

"Want me to go get you a refill?" He offered.

"You don't have to do that I can get it." I said starting to stand up.

"No no please. Allow me. I need to fill mine up too."

"Oh, well then alright. Yes please." I handed him my cup.

"I'll be right back." He said. He turned around and strutted to the soda machine, swinging his hips slightly.

Wait, what? Was he doing it on purpose of had I just never noticed that that's how he walked. I never really payed attention.  
Distracting myself, I took a giant bite of my pizza.  
What a mistake that was. The pizza hadn't cooled down at all it seemed as it seared my tongue. I sputtered as I spit it out onto my plate quite ungracefully. Pete hurried back over with rush footsteps, nearly spilling our drinks.

"'Trick oh my god are you alright? Did you burn yourself? Here, quick drink this" he handed me my Dr. Pepper and gently pushed it up from the bottom as I brought it to my mouth. I couldn't taste a thing. I swallowed the cool liquid but it was no help. I was certain that I had burned every last one of my taste buds off. Damned pizza.

"I'm fine Pete I'm fine," he reluctantly sat back down in his seat across from me.

"You should have known that it was gonna be hot! It needs more than 30 seconds to cool.."

"Yeah I know. I just wasn't thinking clearly."

What did I mean by that? He gave me a confused look, creasing his eye brows together under his his bangs. He didn't question me about it. I was glad because at that moment, I didn't have any answers. Once our pizza's cooled off we began eating over idle chit chat, though I couldn't taste a thing. I talked with a slight lisp, desperately wishing that I could reverse time so that I didn't try to eat that pizza while it was still 1000 degrees. Once we finished we picked up our trash and filled up our drink cups one last time so we could take them to go. Pete held the door open for me as we walked out of the restaurant.

"Thanks," I mumbled. He was just being friendly, like always. Nothing had changed.

"You're welcome!" He smiled at me with creases next to his eyes appearing. He had a great smile. If I was a chick, it'd be one of the things I'd probably be attracted to. Or if I was gay, and I wasn't. I didn't think so at least. "Hey, how is your tongue?" It'd be an odd question out of context.

"Oh it's fine... It'll take a couple days before I can taste anything again but I'll be okay. It was my own fault."

"It could happen to anyone." He sighed as he opened the passenger door for me. That was different. I gave him a puzzled look. Why was he doing this?  
"I'm just trying to be helpful. I feel sorry for you with that tongue of yours."

"Oh," of course. "Well thank you. Again." He clicked his tongue and closed the door for me, walking around the car to his side. Once he was in and started the car, he reached over my lap for the glove box, his arm resting on top of my knee.

"Whatcha doing?"

"I wanna put a cd in. I'm tired of listening to the radio." He said as he dug through the compartment.

"I could look for you?" I offered. His hands and his head and their proximity to my secret area was unnerving me and I didn't have the slightest clue as to why my mind was messing around with the scenario.

"Oh, thanks 'Trick!" He said sitting up. Pick something good for me. I dug around the globe box looking through his CDs. There were more on the floor beneath my feet. He had quite the collection.

"Uhm.. How about Metallica?"

"Oooh!! Yes please! Which album?" Pete Wentz was a Metallica fangirl.

"I have their self titled in my hand right now. Is that alright?"

"That's perfect." He grinned like a little kid as Enter Sandman began to play. He sang along to the track and I had to admit, he was charming. The way he sang along to the track with so much passion was alluring.. It would be to anyone though. Pete had that kind of charisma. He still sounded like a dying whale, but I appreciated it. He wouldn't sing in front of just anyone. That was one of his insecurities. But when he was in my company, his insecurity seemed to vanish. I didn't laugh, or judge. I wouldn't dare make fun of him. Under all that eye liner and face concealer, Pete was fragile. I knew that first hand. Instead I smiled and drummed my hands on the dashboard to the beat. Metallica induced car rides with Pete were always a blast.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••  
We pulled into the complex parking lot around 8pm. Instead of just pulling up the car so that I was in front of the stairs, Pete parked his car and turned the engine off.

"You coming in?"

"No... I just thought I'd walk you to your place.. If you want.. It's dark and I know your ankles still bad... I don't want you to trip."

"You don't have to... Unless you want to I mean.. I don't mind the company." That was the truth. I hated walking in the dark by myself. I lived in a very nice complex. There was nothing sketchy about it, I just didn't like the dark.

"I want to." He said without hesitation. We got out of the car and started up the the stairs. All four flights with them. There was an elevator, but I chose not to use it for the rational fear of it breaking down while I was inside of it. Our shoes clanked against the metal of the steps as we ascended up the four flights. Both of us were panting once we made it to the top.

"I'm telling you trick, you have the money to afford an actual house. I could find you somewhere awesome. At least you wouldn't have to break a sweat to get to your place every time you came back."

"I don't need a house," I insisted, lifting my hat up to wipe the sweat off my forehead. "This apartment fits my needs just fine."

"If you say so." We got to my apartment and I dug my keys out of my pocket. Pete shifting his weight from foot to foot beside me.  
"I had fun tonight. I love hanging out with you... You don't know this but.. Just being around helps me out a ton."

"Glad I could help then..." I said as I unlocked my door. I didn't know what he meant, but I was glad that I was at least being useful to him in someway, even though he wouldn't tell me what exactly was going on. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow?" The Friends or Enemies tour was kicking off the next day in San Fransisco

"Yeah of course," he said as I opened my door. "Patrick?" His voice sounded small and uncertain.

"Yes?" I said, turning my whole body to look at him.

"Could I have a hug..?" I let out a small laugh.

"Of course you can." I said stepping forward, engulfing his body in my arms. He wrapped his around me and we stood there under the stars for what felt like a long time, listening to each other's breathing. I wanted to be something for Pete. It was only in that moment that began to realize that I knew exactly what I wanted to be to him. Something that years ago when we first met I would have never anticipated. Something that in a way, made sense the more I thought about it. Something that surely could never be.

That tingly feeling was back, radiating against Petes torso as our bodies pressed together.


	3. Chapter 3- Batman Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's taken me this long to update, this year has turned out to be CRAZY busy. This chapter is sort of short but I felt that this Fic needed an update. Also, I'm meeting fall out boy again tomorrow. That is all.

Every Time we tour, it's always significantly different from the last. When we toured with Take This to Your Grave, we spent hours cramped inside of a filthy, clustered, van with minimal air conditioning (it ended up smashed into a cork tree while we were inside, but that's a different story for another time) . After Cork Tree was released and we started making more money, we were able to afford to rent an actual bus. With every tour since, the quality of the bus we rent has gotten significantly better. The bus for this tour was fancy as hell. Nothing like what I was expecting. There was an actual shower inside, with a pressurized shower head, and a working toilet. The bunks were actually comfortable, each equipped with its own tv and there was even a back lounge room with an actual day bed. Normally I hate bus rides, but it was so comfortable I didn't mind.  
Pete spent the first hour of the drive in his bunk on his cell phone while I stayed out in the lounge playing my Nintendo DS. I could hear Pete's voice muffled by the door that separated the lounge from the bunk area.  
"No. I don't want you here right now. Seriously, don't bother." Pause. "It's not that I don't LOVE you it's that I need time to think." scoff, "It's got nothing to do with that! I just.. Ash? Ashlee are you still there?"  
Ashlee. Figures. I continued to play my game, acting like I had not just eavesdropped on Pete's whole cell phone conversation with his girlfriend.  
Suddenly the door slid open and he stepped out of the bunk room. I pretended to be concentrated on my video game.  
"Hey Patrick." He said. I looked up at him. His eyeliner was smudged all under his eyes as if he had been rubbing them repeatedly and his hair was sort of tousled at the top, like bed head.  
"Hey there Pete! What's up?" Play it casual.

"Not much. Mind if I sit in here with you?" It seemed that he was doing the same.

"Not at all. I don't mind the company. Joe and Andy are in the back lounge on their lap tops I believe.." He sat down beside me a couple inches away.

 

"Watching porn, I would presume.." He smirked at the way I blushed at the word.

"Dude... Together? No.. That'd be.. Gay... Don't you think?" 

"On the contrary, Nobody's saying that either of them are completely straight.. We all remember how you and Joe went after each other back in '03..." He wasn't supposed to bring that up. Like ever. It was a one time thing and we were both pretty wasted. 

"It was just one kiss, Pete." I said, slightly put off. "You remember how drunk we were... And we were young and foolish and.."

"Hey hey hey!! Don't get yourself worked up over it! I was only teasing. How much longer of this bus ride do we have?" 

"About five hours. It was a six hour drive from LA to San Fran." My tone was flat. I didn't like digging up the past. It brought back some cringe worthy memories from my youth. I suppose I was still in my "youth," but I've significantly matured since I was 19. 

"'Trick... Hey... You can stop being mad at me now I didn't mean to upset you.. I'm sorryyyy..." He leaned his head against my shoulder, letting his black fringe fall over his face. I sighed and gave him a small head pat. 

 

"It's fine.. Sorry for being so touchy."

"Don't apologize! Hey do you wanna come watch a movie in my bunk with me? I brought plenty of DVDs with me that we could choose from!"

"Uhm..." I was hesitant. "Will there be enough room?" 

 

"Surely! I promise you'll have plenty of elbow room. Come on!" It almost felt like a trap. Me and Pete? Alone? In a bed (bunk, same difference)? With the curtain drawn shut? What did he have up his sleeve?

 

Nothing. 

We sat shoulder to shoulder the whole time. 

Pete chose to watch Batman Begins from 2005. I've seen it a few times so instead of focusing on the movie my brain decided to focus on the way our arms would sometimes brush or the way he had his ankles crossed on the bunk in front of us... Or on the little sliver of his torso that was revealed every time he stretched.

It's normal for a guy to notice these types of things on another guy isn't it?

The movie ended and the two of us sat in silence for a couple of minutes. He seemed to be in deep thoughts, maybe processing the events of the movie... Or possibly whatever conflict the was having with his girlfriend.

Speaking of, what was going on with those two? How could I ask that without letting on like I'd been listening in on his conversation earlier.

"Pete?" My voice broke through the silence.

"Yeah?" He asked, sounding almost hopeful. Like he was expecting me to say something great.

"Why isn't.. Ash on this tour with us? You brought her along last time.." 

"Oh...." His gleeful expression turned to one of confusion. He then turned the question around on me. "Why would you ask that?" I suddenly blushed. How could I answer that without sounding like a douche? "You were listening in on me earlier weren't you."

I let out a little sigh. I didn't want to upset him but I couldn't help my curiosity. "Yeah, but in my defense, the bunk room isn't exactly sound proof." 

 

"It's fine. I'm not mad..." He was quiet again. He still hasn't answered my question.

"Is everything alright?" 

"Yeah yeah.. I've just... I've got some shit.. Going on.. Things Uhm....have you ever... Fallen in love with someone.. And then... And then you felt like you were falling out of love with them.. Because.. There was someone else.. This... Other person that you felt was.. More worthy of your attention than.. That the person that you're currently with?" It seemed to me that he was having trouble making sense of what he was feeling. 

"I can't say that I have...." It's not like I'd been in that many relationships anyway.

"Oh... Okay... I must sound stupid then." He looked up at the ceiling, his fringe falling off of his face.

"No you don't... Not at all. You never sound stupid. I've just never personally experienced that." 

"I hope that you never do." He said, killing the conversation.

So Pete was falling out of love with Ashlee. I suppose I saw that coming, but who was this other person that he was starting to feel for, and why hadn't he brought her up before now?


End file.
